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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909106">Periphery</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous'>Tentaculiferous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danny Phantom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Disappointment, Future Fic, Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, Mr. Lancer can have some angst too, Work, as a treat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:35:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,885</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29909106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/pseuds/Tentaculiferous</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of fills for Side Hoes Week 2021. </p><p>First up: Mr. Lancer/Reflections</p><blockquote>
  <p><br/>Lancer didn't need a mirror. He considered his students the best reflection of himself. Every day when he strode into the classroom, thirty faces stared back at him.</p>
  <p>Thirty pairs of eyes, that showed him how well he was doing with his life's calling. Had he inspired in young minds a love of literature, a deeper understanding of story, as he'd set out to do?</p>
</blockquote>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Danny Fenton &amp; Jazz Fenton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lancer didn't need a mirror. He considered his students the best reflection of himself. Every day when he strode into the classroom, thirty faces stared back at him.</p>
<p>Thirty pairs of eyes, that showed him how well he was doing with his life's calling. Had he inspired in young minds a love of literature, a deeper understanding of story, as he'd set out to do?</p>
<p>All too often, his pot bellied balding figure shined back at him from eyes dull with boredom, disinterest, or outright distaste.</p>
<p>Some, like young Danny Fenton who was currently asleep in a fast-growing puddle of drool (the class had only started 5 minutes ago for Faulkner's sake!) gave nothing back at all. His eyes were closed, seemingly totally beyond reach showing utter failure on Lancer's part as a teacher.</p>
<p>Then there were the few students whose eyes were a little too bright. They were the grade-grubbers, and almost as bad as the zombied-out kids. In a way, he'd missed the mark with them as badly as he had with Fenton.</p>
<p>They hung on his every word, zealously writing down everything he said, not because it was especially wise or they found it meaningful, but because they were mentally calculating their semester GPA. Pastoral poetry didn't ignite any wonder in them at all, they were more interested in their chances of getting a 4.0 if they memorized and regurgitated the right facts.</p>
<p>Yes, he stared failure in the face every day, not managing to see a single spark of love for the literature that he'd devoted his adult life to. And he would do it every day until they forced him into retirement. The kids might be hopeless, the arts might be dying, and maybe some of that was on him.</p>
<p>Maybe if he was a more charismatic man, more inspiring, he would have won some converts. But he would keep trying, working to relate to them and to speak the same language so he could help them see what he saw when he cracked open a book. There was nothing else to do.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Lancer. This was inspired by the literature classes I took where no one but myself and one other student bothered to read the books. I felt so bad for those teachers.</p><p>Also considered calling this collection of fills "Peripheral Strumpets" as a synonym for Side Hoes but didn't want anyone thinking it was a smut collection...that would be false advertising, LOL.</p><p>Any feedback is appreciated ^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sam - Happy (Happiness in Misery)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Some people found it strange that Sam could drown herself in black layers, bedeck everything in her room and on her person with skulls, spiders, spikes, and other unpleasant or "scary" dark symbols.</p><p>They didn't know. That there was freedom in the macabre, in the gruesome. In everything that made Pamela Manson's perfectly glossed lips curl, or even better, elicited a shriek from her sweetly feminine vocal chords. The tight strand of pearls that wrapped around that caterwauling throat had once had a matching pair around Sam's own neck.</p><p>Once she'd been pinkness and light and soft floral prints and fragrances. Always a gentle smile on her face no matter how she felt inside, because ladies had to keep up a pleasant and pleasing appearance. She hadn't been happy.</p><p>Why couldn't her mother just do her creepy Stepford wife thing with diamonds and pearls and perfectly-coifed hair (really, it was a million times more unnatural and Uncanny Valley than goth fashion could ever aspire to!) and let Sam be herself?</p><p>So she'd gotten her septum pierced. It made her happy, and shouldn't that be what mattered?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't know why I like writing Sam's mundane first world problems in struggling with her goth fashion expression VS her parent's wishes...Maybe it's fun because she's such a stereotypical angsty/rebellious teen. Anyway, have me writing it for the nth time.</p><p>Any feedback is appreciated ^^</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wes - Denial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Everyone was in denial.</p><p>That had to be it, Wes thought, as he peered around his classroom at the thirty or so teenagers and one oblivious, droning middle-aged teacher.</p><p>There was no way they didn't see it. That puff of air, more than a puff really, a CLOUD of blue vapor that emerged from Danny Fenton's mouth, right before he'd made up some lame excuse about needing the nurse and ran off?</p><p>Wes's hands gripped the sides of his desk tightly, bracing himself for it. He'd noticed the connection.</p><p>And sure enough, the ghost alarm bell went off, signalling all students to evacuate the premises.</p><p>He'd observed carefully the pattern (his eyes were like lasers glaring at the back of Danny's head in every class they shared) and had told everyone he knew.</p><p>But even when he texted them <i>before</i> the ghost alarm went off, telling them that Danny had left the class and so there was sure to be a ghost attack, they still mocked him. Some even commented on his "suspicious" foreknowledge.</p><p>There were more people that believed he was in cahoots with the ghosts than there were that believed Fenton was Phantom. It was maddening. He wished he could go into denial over the whole thing...</p><p>He tried to put Fenton out of his mind for the rest of the day. Trying to convince everyone was getting him nowhere, just earning him a lot of funny looks and snickering.</p><p>He actually did a pretty good job of it, managing to ignore that his one of his classmates was a creepy dead imitation playing at being human.</p><p>But when he got home from basketball practice, it was forcibly brought back to his mind.</p><p>"Son, your mother and I would like to talk to you about something."</p><p>Oh no, he knew what this was about.</p><p>He sat down at the dining table across from them, shooting wary looks at his mother's smiling, calm facade and at the concerned look on his father's face.</p><p>"I got a call from Jack Fenton this afternoon. Do you know what about?" his father asked.</p><p>Wes sighed.</p><p>"It's nothing you two need to worry about. He told me the anti-ghost ray he hit me with was totally harmless to human beings."</p><p>His father and mother exchanged glances, his father raising a brow. Oh great, that <i>wasn't</i> what they'd wanted to talk about.</p><p>"We're more concerned that you were caught in the bushes outside the Fenton home. For the fith time this month." his father said.</p><p>Wes gaped at them. "I was investigating a paranormal entity that haunts our school halls." he said slowly.</p><p>"Wes honey, it's okay if you like this boy. But you can't stalk him." his mother said, her voice gentle.</p><p>"I DON'T LIKE HIM! HE'S AN UNDEAD ABOMINATION!"</p><p>"Son, I know these feelings can be hard to deal with—"</p><p>"This is not—it's not <i>that</i>!" Wes spluttered.</p><p>"We just have to give him time, Charlie." his mother said. "He'll work it out on his own."</p><p>"I guess so." Wes's father said, casting a sad gaze on his son.</p><p>"We'll still love and support you no matter who you love. Even if that person is another boy. Or a 'ghost'", his mother made quotes in the air with her fingers. "We want you to know that." his mother said.</p><p>His father nodded. "But if you like this boy, you need to just ask him out. I don't want to hear about you being caught lurking outside Fentonworks again. A restraining order is no way to start a relationship."</p><p>Wes glared at his father.</p><p>"I'm not interested in a relationship with that <i>thing</i>—"</p><p>His father and mother exchanged pitying glances.</p><p>"Ugh!" Wes huffed.</p><p>"Just promise us you'll stay away from Fentonworks unless invited, okay sweetie?" his mom asked.</p><p>"FINE!" Wes snapped. Anything to shut them up and their ridiculous theories.</p><p>He grabbed his backpack from where he'd laid it next to the table, and stormed off to his room. There, he could be safe from his parents' weirdness. Safe to plan...now more than ever he had to prove that Fenton was Phantom. The ecto-entity did nothing but cause havoc in his life, making all his classmates think he was crazy and his parents think he was gay and in denial. Who knew what it would do next?</p><p>He started throwing gear into his bag: binoculars, a patented Fenton Ghost Tracker 2001, trail mix because it was going to be a long night.</p><p>He just needed to be more careful and not get caught in his observations this time...</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've never written this guy before, but he seems fun. Hope no one minds that I didn't tag with a ship, but I don't think (this) Wes is actually in love with Danny, no matter what his parents think, LOL. </p><p>As always, any feedback is appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Jazz - Hospital</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Jazz, we're so proud!" Maddie gushed.</p><p>Of course they were. Danny rolled his eyes, and stuffed macaroni in his mouth to keep from letting the sarcasm roll out.</p><p>"Youngest director of Amity Park Psychiatric Hospital! I knew my Jazzy-pants could do it!"</p><p>"Thanks Dad." she paused, and looked seriously at her family gathered around the dinner table at Fentonworks. "You know, I have you two to thank for it."</p><p>"How's that?" Jack asked, suspicion in his tone.</p><p>"You and Mom have always followed your passions without ever looking back, no matter how much people criticized or made fun of you. There were so many times when people told me that I couldn't get into Yale, or that my thesis topic was ludicrous, or even that I was too young to be trying for the director position. But whenever I doubted myself, I'd think about how you two never listened to any naysayers, not even your own daughter, and you were proved right in the end. I like to think I get my persistence from you guys." Jazz said.</p><p>"Aww, sweetie, give me a hug!" Maddie said, pulling her daughter into her arms.</p><p>Danny was going to throw up.</p><p>"What a perfect little speech. Did you write that for when you get Daughter of the Year?" Danny said. He'd finished his macaroni.</p><p>Jack glared at him, but Jazz just gave him a knowing look. Her eyes were wide open with concern, as always, for him. There was no judgment or anger. He could never break through that shell of the perfect sister, the perfect daughter, Little Miss Perfect Yale Grad.</p><p>"No, I've just been thinking about it a lot. I am a psychiatrist after all. My patients are always there, reminding me of how much who we are is based on where we come from." Jazz said.</p><p>"Wow, you should save that one for when you're interviewed by Genius Magazine." Danny said, rolling his eyes.</p><p>"And you've already been interviewed by Genius Magazine." Jazz said, putting her hand under her chin and studying him.</p><p>What did she mean by that, reminding him of something he'd accomplished over a decade ago? Peaked at 14, as far as the wider world was concerned.</p><p>"So?" Danny asked.</p><p>"So, if you're going to compare yourself to me, then you should keep in mind that there's things you've achieved that I never have. Even if no one ever gives you any awards for it." Jazz said.</p><p>Maddie was following their conversation silently, but Jack wasn't.</p><p>"C'mon Jazzy, let's get down to the lab! I want to show you the new and improved Fenton Foamer."</p><p>Jack wrapped an enormous arm around his daughter's shoulders and began steering her toward the lab, waxing enthusiastically about the new propulsion method.</p><p>"I'm going to end up with goo in my hair, aren't I?" Jazz asked resignedly.</p><p>When they were gone, Maddie looked at Danny. "You should listen to what Jazz says. She's not wrong."</p><p>"Yeah I know, she's never wrong, about anything." he put his plate in the sink and walked off, hearing his mother sigh behind him.</p><p>He wasn't going to admit it to his mother or his sister (she had enough of a swelled head as it was) but her words had made him feel better. He had accomplished things, even if no one but a few could ever know of them.</p><p>"Man, she really is good at that psychology crap..." He muttered, heading upstairs to put his Nasty Burger uniform on.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So...this takes place in my "Loser Danny AU", so called not because Danny is a loser in it, but because he feels like one....because he's millennial living at home with his parents, working at the Nasty Burger XD </p><p>In this AU, Jazz, Tucker, Sam, and even Valerie all went on to fulfill their potential...while Danny basically got left behind, because ghost fighting took up too much time for him to get an education or develop his career :'(</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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